Mondays The Day After Funday

You know it’s a solid Monday when the last thing you get to do before bed is clean up the projectile vomit of your 15 year old bulimic cat. Which is apparently what I get to do tonight. Today was already a solid 1 on the Likert scale of days as I spent the last few hours of the day trying to both figure out how to reduce the load time of our landing page and entertain a four year old who needs attention. Now I get to go around to the 5 (FIVE!) piles of cat puke and clean them up, scraping the grooves in the wood flooring with my fingernails so that it comes out.

One thing I miss about the office (of the two things, free donuts being the other) is the more natural impulse to get up and leave the computer throughout the day. I’ve noticed that my eyes are shot and my head is tight and my body aches for the sweet release of death at the end of most days when I’ve done nothing but stare at the computer all day. In the office, at least there were meetings, mostly meaningless, but away from the desk at least. Now, meetings are still just staring at a computer 24 inches from your face. It begins to wear on you. I’m only a pretend manager too, not that many meetings, mostly because I refuse a bunch of them, so I have no idea how real managers do it, their entire day soaked up in Zoom.

At least today was warm. Seven days ago, I think the high was 12. Today it was close to 65. The difference between 65 and 12 for Texans is like the difference between Ann Richards and Ted Cruz. Don’t give me any shit, analogies are never perfect. So Wobbles and I went for a walk to the park which helped.

I’m not burned out from the work though that’s certainly some of it. I don’t even have to work that much. It’s the monotony mostly. The only thing that makes today different from tomorrow is the five piles of regurgitated Blue Mountain I’m putting off dealing with. Probably just jinxed tomorrow. Having a kid and trying to juggle work and her is more than most people imagine. Luckily, it looks like she’ll be going back to school in June which frankly can’t get here soon enough.

I’m reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird which is a treatise on writing. The book opens with a story about her brother who has had 3 months to write an essay about birds. It’s due tomorrow and he hasn’t started it and is at the table, weeping inconsolably at the despair of writing an essay on who knows how many birds in 12 hours. And his father sits down beside of him and answers the question of how this will get done: “Bird by bird buddy. Just take it bird by bird.”

I think that’s sort of going to be my approach to the days ahead. I can sort of rationally see the end of the tunnel way off in the distance but it’s so faint that I have no proof it’s not a mirage. And the only way to get there is day by day. Reminds me of the old saying “how do you eat an elephant?” “One bite at a time.” Tasks that seem insurmountable are if you look at the totality. But reaching totality requires ten thousand tiny steps along the way, each mostly in the same direction. I think that’s the only way to make it through this crazy time. Speaking of eating an elephant, I’ve got some cat puke to clean up.

Restricting Choice

I’m in a book club at work and the current book we’re reading is Good Strategy, Bad Strategy by Richard Rumelt. It is an examination of strategy mostly as it relates to the business world. Most books of this type are barely more than self-help books so one might wonder what makes this book particularly special. Five chapters in, my initial take on that question is that it highlights and enforces the idea that choice and the narrowing of choice is critical to success in almost all endeavors.

So much of strategy work in the world results in grand plans of goals, visions, dreamy ideas of success, and imagining yourself as successful. But none of these things are really strategy. None of them aid you in moving forward in coherent ways towards an end game. You have to establish what constraints you are trying to solve for, define some policies that act as guard rails for action and then begin to act within that structure. This necessarily restricts your actions in the problem space. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. You must choose a direction and then act on it in order to improve. Of course, there is no guarantee that you will choose correctly and therefore you may not actually improve. But without that choice and the constriction of the problem space, you are guaranteed not to succeed.

This relates directly to my post on managing inertia. Inertia is the embodiment of inaction. Worse, it is the impedance of action because it is resisting, actively and passively, the effects of action on the body you are trying to move. Whether you are trying to push a car to a gas station or change how your organization writes software or get your four year old to clean up her room, the current movement of the body through space tends towards the same direction that has always been acting on the body in question. As these bodies grow in an organization, so does the complexity and the difficulty for change. As that complexity changes and grows, so does the problem space and the possible actions for the solution. Many times in an organization, without the difficult strategy work of restricting the problem space and thus the opportunities for action, nothing changes because either actions work in direct conflict with each other or are not coherent and contribute to different goals.

For example, you might want to migrate or reclaim some software or maybe improve some part of your engineering department. You grandly say “Go forth and do this”. Then, 5 months later, you find out that while lots of people have been talking about lots of actions, nothing has really happened. But why? You told people to go fix this thing. Unfortunately, no actual constraints were placed on the actions of teams and because there were competing goals that you explicitly or implicitly endorsed (like continue to make money and add features to said software), nothing meaningful happened.

To fix situations like this, policies must be written and then enforced that constrain the actions of teams down to the classes of behavior that solely support the goal. In the example above, a policy would need to be put in place that no new work will be done on the existing software other than bug fixes and critical patches. You know that you have written a good policy when you can read it and see that it will cause pain, perhaps for yourself. It will make some people upset or annoyed or worried because something they are used to doing (probably because you told them to in the past) is being eliminated. Without this feeling of pain through the restriction of choice, success will continue to be out of reach.

Much of this seems applicable to the personal as well. I struggle with making progress on almost everything because I never sit down and restrict the availability of choice. I want to learn the guitar and Spanish and do some writing and read more books and be a better woodworker and be a better father. In the end, the multitude of choices overwhelms each other. Even if I act on all of these in a given week, barely any progress is achieved because there is no focused effort on a singular goal. A better strategy would be to restrict choice to a single activity or set of actions until the desired level of mastery is achieved. This actually should be easier at a personal level because there are no competing organizations or groups all with their own inertia. The guiding policy wouldn’t be nearly as complex. “In my available free time for the next quarter, I will practice the guitar.” At first, it is very limiting. But it is also quite freeing. I don’t have to think about learning Spanish or woodworking (though being a better father is sort of just an overarching thing worth working on at all times).

Success only comes from the combination of decision and action. Constantly wanting the best of everything will necessarily result in wish-washy results whether personally or in business. This is the hard part of strategy work and involves difficult choices that most people prefer to avoid because of their implications. I may not learn Spanish if I only practice my guitar which depresses me so instead I never commit and therefore always have the potential to succeed at both. I may have to stop making as much money in my business if I commit to improving technical processes and outcomes which will make me sad and so I’ll just hope that I can do both and that it will all magically work out. This is what makes management so frustratingly hard. It’s something I’m coming to terms with through experience. The restriction of action space is the only way to truly succeed and that often will result in difficult conversations and directions even if only with the voice in my head. But without this restriction of action, the natural tendency is to keep doing the same things because of inertia and as they say, if you think you’ll get different results doing that, there’s a place at the asylum reserved.

On Being Still

Teach us to care and not to care.
Teach us to be still.

T. S Eliot - Excerpt from the poem Ash Wednesday

I’m often struck by the serendipity of life if one only allows it in. I started a new book this morning, Anne Lamott’s Almost Everything and in it she quotes the excerpt from T. S. Eliot above. Living in the age of information, I was able to google the poem and discover its title. This is serendipitous because my main personal focus for Lent, which started yesterday with Ash Wednesday, is to write every day. Lamott’s book is about hope in our life of despair, how she has navigated the waters of an existentially sad world to find constant hope in the amazing things that humans do to and for each other. It is apropos that much of the first section of Eliot’s poem is about turning away from the ephemeral and towards the everlasting.

“Teach us to be still”. In the world of a pandemic and now a once in a lifetime winter storm that has brought much of what we expect to be normality to a stop, I have noticed that stillness is in short supply in my life. Some of this is due to having a four year old trapped in a house for hours and days on end. But much of it, the mental side, is of my own doing, constantly darting from one thing to the next, a tweet here, a message in Slack there, perhaps another email has come in. This is nothing new. I have struggled with this for years. But it has gotten worse in the last 12 months to the point where reading something of length that is mildly difficult seems beyond my capability.

I’ve noticed that it gets worse through the day as the notifications and the demands on attention grow. By the time the work day is over, my attention has been fragmented and my mind is exhausted, not in a pleasant way after great focus but as if it were a firefly trapped in a jar by a child, constantly flying into invisible walls until it can fly no more. I need to take time during the day for stillness, to allow quiet in the door of my mind.

It is interesting to me the use of “and” in the first line of the excerpt above. When I first thought about the line, I assumed it was an “or”. But an “or” there would have a different, sadder, more desolate meaning. It would be asking to be taught nothingness. Instead, the “and” asks for hope, to be able to care but also to not care, especially, within the context of the larger poem, to let go and be still. We should care about the inhumanity in the world but we should also know what we can affect. We should let go of that we cannot change, not unlike Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer.

The irony of course is that a massive winter storm is the perfect time for stillness. There is nothing to else to do for several days. Yet I felt constant restlessness and irritation. I’m hoping that a return to more meditative pursuits during this Lenten season can teach me to be still again.

Managing Inertia

In Simon Wardley’s business strategy methodology, Wardley Maps, there are a class of behaviors you can take in all contexts to improve your ability to act strategically and improve your chances of success. These are called doctrine, universal rules that one should use across contexts. By analogy, in war, you have a doctrine to train your soldiers to shoot before you go into battle or in chess, you should learn the moves of the pieces before playing your grandfather. Doctrine isn’t a sliver bullet but it is guiding principles broadly applicable to multiple situations.

These doctrine are applicable to certain broad categories of activities you might take: Communication, Development, Operation, Learning, Leading and Structure. One of the key ones in Operation that intrigues me is Manage Inertia. This applies to the broad category of operating the business, of doing the day to day things that allows progress to be made on a variety of fronts. A formal definition of inertia is the resistance of any physical object to a change in its velocity. In business, the physical object takes on other definitions and could be a team, a process, a piece of software, or any number of other constructs. The fact that inertia exists in your business is A Good Thing. It’s a sign of success because without past success, continuing to do the same thing would be pointless. It is the fact that inertia rises out of past successes that creates a paradox and the need to deal with it. Much like your brokerage telling you that past success is no guarantee of future performance, Tesla notwithstanding, business success in the past must be often disregarded so that change can happen and the business can evolve.

Inertia in business manifests in particular ways. Organizational units that have achieved success in the past will be unwilling to try new things or learn new processes. Software that has become successful will over time become ossified as more features are added to it in its current structure, cementing design decisions into place. Processes like Scrum or Six Sigma fix initial problems and then are never revisited for examination. The paradox here is that the business landscape is always changing. Businesses must adapt in order to have continued success but they have tendencies to stay the same. This is how the brash startup can disrupt an established player in a vertical. The startup lacks the inertia of the established that acts on every part of the business to keep it from changing for its own good.

Often, certain elements within an organization will, consciously or not, chafe against the inertia and push to make radical changes. In the software landscape, this is often expressed as rewriting some piece of the business’ software after a period of time because technology has moved on and improved. In the best case, this often is a push out of the development teams who see improvements to technology and methodologies and want to do things better. In the worst case, it can be a lack of good business strategy that allows a rogue element to begin a project without guidance or a clear road map. Typically, it’s a little of both.

These rewrites can in fact be successful. With enough engineering firepower and good leadership that focuses on business value and quick wins, rewrites can be done in a way that leads to a rapid evolution of the existing software. However, more often than not, none of that is true. The business focuses engineering talent elsewhere leaving the rewrite understaffed. Management, somewhat out of touch with the landscape as well as the day to day activities, prefers to just sort of hope things will turn out ok. Hard decisions are avoided. The organizational inertia towards the success of the past weighs heavily. This inertia is far more powerful than the average engineer or engineering manager understands.

Other organizational units that interact with the working system have developed rules and processes for that interaction. Over time, through the success of the software, they themselves have become successful which leads to inertia from a different quarter. The marketing team has learned to use the software for its benefits. The business insights group has learned how to get data out and into the hands of stakeholders in a reliable manner. The business executives understand the vocabulary and the predictability of working software. All these sources of inertia work against a rewrite and must be managed thoughtfully and strategically or else the project is doomed.

So we have a paradox. The business must change in order to adapt to an evolving landscape. But the business must not change because what they are doing is successful. Navigating this landscape takes planning and must be done constantly as maintenance on existing systems, no differently than the oil must be changed in the car. Managing this inertia, while a general doctrine, involves critical thought applied to a particular context. There is no silver bullet. Perhaps you can reclaim your software. Perhaps a rewrite is the best plan. But if so, all the sources of inertia that act on the organization must be taken into account and mitigated. You cannot suddenly change a significant chunk in a successful business. The business reached a stable state through time and evolution and a sudden rupture in that stability will rarely succeed.

This management of inertia involves consensus and partnership across organizational units. The irony of course is that the drive for change often arises because one organizational unit has grown tired of the existing inertia and seeks to overcome it by moving alone. However, in a successful business, there is no alone. All units are connected, however tenuously, and the smaller the business, the stronger the bonds between units. So these moments of punctuated equilibrium where a unit thinks they can rapidly change something that the entire business relies on are largely doomed to failure. Conway’s Law cannot be ignored.

How then can we ensure inertia won’t kill us over time? Good strategy goes a long way. By analyzing the issue and developing policies that guide teams’ actions, inertia can be used against itself as small successes help teams develop confidence in their ability to manage change in the organization. A policy that says “we will always be on a framework version within one major version of the current accepted version” will guide teams actions in their planning process and insure that improvements in technology work their way through your system. A policy of “As a team, we will spend one week a year exploring the landscape of our current technology stack” will help sharpen skills and invites broad participation. Policies are critical to guide behaviors and actions. Without them, there can be no consensus on how to move forward.

Overall, the management of inertia is a function of good management. This seems trite but is critical. By defining strategies and policies that guide actions across an organization and then enforcing these policies over time, inertia can be prevented from becoming ossification. Without this management over time, software will grow in size and complexity to a point where changing it becomes perilous and rumblings of replacement will grow louder. It is unlikely at this point that excellent management will suddenly leap out of the fire to guide a difficult project to success. As in health, it is always more advisable to take small steps over time rather than have heart surgery as a strategy. Managing inertia must be consistent and well-guided to allow the business to evolve as circumstances warrant.